assuming you're the father
by pearlbutton328
Summary: End of the year final before the final, and Sam is cheesed off at the subject of Freddie's new fascination. Sequel to 'i taught your boyfriend that thing you like'


**The non-long-awaited sequel to i taught your boyfriend that thing you like, yay! the sex in this is a lot more graphic than anything else i've written (i think), and that's probably because i spent, like, a handful of hours writing them rather than the few minutes i usually use. i actually used that word called 'effort'.**

**full title is 'you're going to be a great dad, assuming you're the father'. was so ticked off that ffdotnet doesn't allow titles that long, haha. also, before you read, let me clear a few things:**

**one. no, freddie doesn't get anyone pregnant in this fic.**

**two. no one has an actual baby.**

**three. how awesome was sam and freddie in tonight's episode? **"Carly..." "Hmm?" "They're not wrestling." "... Oh." **i will forever love that bit of dialogue between carly and fredweird.**

**four. enjoy!**

"You can't possibly… There's no way…" A giggle erupted from behind the blue shower curtains, followed by a husky chuckle.

"I can always _try_," came a low voice.

"There is no _way_ I want to be found dead and naked because of you accidentally dropping me on my head."

"Come on. If you just put… your leg like _this_…"

A high-pitched squeal was followed immediately by a wet thump. "We are way too slippery, Freddie!"

"Well, I'm _trying_, Sam. If you just pulled a little more weight, we'd be good."

"A little more weight could result in a slippery death," she said, and then there was silence, but it wasn't long before it was interrupted by the sound of lips smacking.

Sam nipped playfully at Freddie's frown and teased her tongue past his full lips, running her fingers lightly across the hard muscles of his shoulders. He kissed back, tangling his tongue hotly with hers, but when she pulled back, the frown was still in place. She hummed to herself and enticingly licked across her top lip, watching Freddie's eyes follow her movements. "I can always suck you," she said, delighting in the way that his eyes widened.

"Are you sure?" He asks, sounding uncertain even as a confident grin crosses his lips.

Sam pinches his chin between her fingers and shakes his head from side to side, saying, "Anything to keep that frown upside down, mister."

"Okay, never coo at me again," Freddie says, laughing. He then captures her lips in another long, heated kiss and trails his fingers down the side of her neck before replacing them with his mouth.

Sam lets out a moan as he laps up the water on her skin and sucks on her pulse point. The fingers of his other hand tease at her dripping folds, middle finger running lightly across her clit, and Sam has to hold onto his shoulders for balance as she raises her leg higher around his waist. The water is beating heavily against her back, hot and steaming, and when Sam tosses her head back to give him more places to lick on her neck, the hair that she had put up in a sloppy bun gets soaked through in less than ten seconds.

"How much do you want it?" Freddie mumbles gruffly into her skin, and though the pleasure is rising in her, clouding her better judgment and making her skin flush in excitement, Sam only laughs.

"Not enough to want to _die_," she answers sarcastically, and then gasps when he bites down hard on the flesh of her neck, at the spot just below her ear. He rubs the hard nub of her clit a little more vigorously and Sam knows that if it weren't for the steady stream coming from the overhead shower, her thighs would be slick with her own rushing arousal. "Freddie," she pants, breath shortening. "I'm gonna…"

"Good," he says, and sucks on the tender spot on her neck. He flicks his finger on her taut nipple, rolling it briefly, before running his hand down her body, gripping the firm globe of her buttock in his palm and pulling her closer to him, closer to his fingers.

Sam gyrates on his hand, her toes curling at the bottom of the tub as he kisses her skin harder, tightly circling his thumb on her engorged clit. Her breath is shortening and her pulse is quickening, rushing through her veins, and she thanks God for making her so easy to please when her climax sends everything, her mind and her body, hurtling over the edge.

She's dimly aware of the way that she's keening high in her throat and is gripping the damp hair at the nape of Freddie's neck a bit too roughly, but her orgasm is intense—they always are—and she doesn't think to loosen her fingers from his strands, regardless of his pained yelps, until she's stopped spasming and her heart rate has slowed down enough that she feels that she could properly breathe without fainting.

Freddie reaches back and untangles her fingers from his hair, intertwines them with his so that their palms are touching, and places his lips on her face in soft kisses. He waits patiently until she's calmed down, grin on his face.

Sam returns his lopsided smile and pulls him close by his hand until her hard nipples are rubbing against his chest and says teasingly, "Magic fingers."

"Oh, no. It's all you, baby," he murmur against her cheek and shift his hips until his erection is digging into the spot just below her navel. He hisses in her ear and Sam feels a dull throb in between her legs. Her fingers tighten in his.

"See what you do to me? I'm so hard, I could drill a hole through the wall."

"Scary," Sam chuckles.

He grinds against her, pushing insistently against her stomach. There is a sly look on his face. "Of course, I won't do that. I know you like it when I save the drilling for you."

She raises a skeptical brow. "Cheesy? Check. Cocky? Yet another check."

"You know you love it."

She shakes her head in the falling water and asks, "What makes you so sure of that?" When he grips his erection in one hand and slides it down her pubic mound, to the top of her delicate folds, Sam can't help it. She shudders and tightens her hold on his waist, her lips parting open on a gasp.

"This," Freddie answers, nudging his pouty lips against hers. "This is what makes me so sure."

"Freddie," she says, sounding somewhere between pleading and threatening as he bends his knees and pushes the head of his cock past her lips. Her core throbbed unremittingly, so suddenly that it made her head reel.

"I love it when you beg for me," he growls before latching his mouth around the swell of her breast, laving his firm tongue along her nipple.

Sam stands on her toes and pushes against him, feeling him pressing against her entrance, only one short, agonizing inch from being inside of her. She allows herself only a few seconds more of this dizzying torture before mustering up as much self control as she could and shoving him away from her. "_You'll_ be the one begging in a minute."

His back hits the tiles of the shower wall and he smirks at her. "Is that a promise?"

"Shut up and spread them," she grumbled, kicking his feet apart in the rather limited space of the bathtub. He smirk widens into a grin when she sinks onto her knees, and he reaches out to touch her hair, but Sam slaps his hand away. "No touching the 'do."

"Aw, you're no fun," he teased, rubbing the back of his hand as if her slap had hurt him.

"Oh, you want fun?" Sam laughs, nodding. "I'll show you fun. I'll show you _real_ fun."

"I'm gonna have to hold you to it," Freddie challenges, grin splitting his face.

Sam narrows her eyes at him and then looks down at his cock, had to swallow the drool pooling under the end of her tongue. He's quite an impressive size this close to her face, his shaft long and hard and curving up to his stomach. Water is delicately beaded in the dark curls of his hair, a trail that starts from around his navel and ends just before reaching his shaft, and his balls hang lower, rosy pink and delicate. Sam licks her lips, decides to start with those.

His flesh jumps under her touch, but she keeps her lips in place, snaking her tongue partway out of her mouth to lick up a few errant drops of water. Her nose nudges the underside of his erection and she can hear Freddie hiss as she pulls a ball into her mouth, watching out for her teeth as she sucks on it.

"Sam," he groans above her, voice rumbling in his chest. "That's so good."

She nods her head in acknowledgement. Her fingers wrap around his erection to hold him away from her face as she turns her head to suckle his other ball into her mouth. She feels him pushing into her loose hold around him and grips him tighter, gives him a few experimental tugs. She wraps her mouth closed around his ball and moves her tongue over the soft, yielding flesh. She pulls away a short minute later with a wet sound, runs her pointed tongue up his sack and on the underside of his cock.

Freddie's hands are laying flat, forced back against the tiles as Sam licks him from base to tip. The rosy head of his cock seemed to strain toward her mouth when she reached it, but she ignored its urgency, ghosting her lips past it and tracing her tongue in an intricate design around the rest of his shaft.

She glances up at Freddie through fallen, soaked bangs. "You like that?" She presses her tongue harder on his flesh.

He's worrying his lip with his teeth and his brows are furrowed in frustration as he answers, "I'd like it if you would quit teasing."

A smile blooms on her face. "That's not the proper way to ask."

"Please," Freddie adds through gritted teeth.

She places her lips on the side of his cock, sucks his skin into her mouth and pulls back, watching her handiwork bloom outward and red. "Gonna have to ask nicer than that."

She circles her tongue around the head of his cock while her fingers climb up his spread thighs. Nails digging into his skin, she wraps her mouth around the tip of his cock and sucks, none too gently.

"Ah," Freddie cries out, his fingers curling uselessly against the wall. He's thrusting his hips, pushing farther into her mouth, and Sam sucks even harder around him, so gruffly that he shies away a bit. She smirks to herself, thinking, _that's a good boy. Mama will tell you when it's time to play rough._

Freddie whines her name as she takes him in unhurriedly, inch by excruciatingly slow inch, and she stops when she figures it's the farthest she can take him without gagging, his cock hitting the back of her tongue. She wraps her tongue flat around him, can feel skin gliding smoothly over his contrasting hardness. His smell is intoxicating, maddening, sending her head spinning and she can hear herself slurping wetly, greedily around him, even over the cacophony of streaming water, and her eyes roll with desire when she places two fingers against her tender folds.

She plays with herself while she blows him and catches the predatory look on his face, pupils blown wide with craving.

"You're so sexy like this, Sam. Your lips stretched around me, tasting me like the greedy little girl you are. And, _fuck_, are you fingering yourself?" His voice cracks and he presses his head back onto the wall. "_Fuck_."

Sam squeezes her eyes shut and whimpers around him, plunging two fingers inside of herself. The walls of her pussy tighten around her and she's breathing heavily through her nose as she allows Freddie to fuck her mouth. His hand cradles the back of her head as he pushes between her lips, pulling out to run the head of his cum and spit-slick dick on her lips, and thrusts back inside. Sam gasps on one of his outward strokes and keeps her head pulled back, away from his impossibly hard and swollen cock. There was only so much she could take.

She bit down on her abused lip and watched as Freddie wrapped a few firm fingers around his self and began tugging. If at all possible, the sight of him masturbating not two inches away from her nose turns her on even further and she stretches herself open around her fingers as she darts her tongue out to lick across his slit.

His stomach heaves with the short, erratic breaths he takes as his hand moves quickly over his member, the other hand holding tight in her hair, and Sam knows, can sense him coming toward a fast end. She quickens her plunges to try and match his pace and flattens her tongue against him, eagerly awaiting his release.

"God, Sam," he chokes out, and then he's spilling his load over her tongue and Sam is moaning with him, rolling some of his salty, cloudy release to the back of her throat as the rest trails messily down her chin.

She's panting heavily when Freddie grabs her high on her arms and pulls her up. She stumbles in her abrupt standing position, pushing Freddie into the wall as he wipes a thumb across her chin, greedily eyeing her bruised lips. "Freddie," she gasps into his wet neck. "I need—"

"I know," he says, cutting her off. He crowds her against the wall and Sam jolts at the frigidity of the tiles before surrendering to him as his tongue licks into her mouth. His hand squeezes her thigh roughly as he raises it to his hip, placing his foot on the edge of the tub to keep her open. He wastes absolutely no time in thrusting his fingers into her and Sam moans loudly into his mouth, savoring both the feel of him twisting in her and his half-hard cock rubbing against her hip.

And then he makes a sudden motion with his fingers against the spot deep inside her, and Sam knew that she was hanging by a thread, but she just didn't know hot thin that thread was. She's surprised when her orgasm slams into her and she screams, rising up on the wall away from Freddie, his deft fingers both too much and not enough.

Freddie murmurs assurances in her ear, pets her until she's limp in his arms. Sam bonelessly obliges when he pulls her under the warm water, washing away the evidence of their playful hour, and it seems like she only has time for one long blink before the water is being turned off and Freddie is wrapping a towel around her. She falls face-first onto his bed as soon as they leave the bathroom and lets out a heavy sigh.

"You're gonna soak the sheets," she hears Freddie say as a drawer opens and closes.

"So?" she mumbles. "You'll just change them." She moans when she feels him climb on the bed, knees on either side of her as he hovers over her back. Goosebumps break across her flesh as her heavily soaked hair is pulled to one side of her neck. "What are you doing?"

He places a kiss on her damp skin and runs a palm across her shoulder. "You're impossible," he says, and Sam can hear the awe and amusement lacing his tone. "Want me to go see if Carly has a good enough blow-dryer for your huge mane?"

Sam smiles, nestles her face farther down in his sheets. "That might be best."

"Good," he said, and then carefully turned her face toward him. His lips slant across hers in a deep kiss, and Sam sighs forlornly when he pulls away. "I'll be back," he tells her uselessly and then continues to get dressed.

Sam watches through heavily lidded eyes as he pulls a shirt over his tousled hair and flashes a smile at her. Before he leaves the room, he blows her a kiss and she blushes hotly.

Ladies and Gentlemen, her boyfriend of two months.

::: ::: ::: :::

"You know, I've been thinking about what I want to do next year." Her pencil furiously taps the notebook and she places her chin in her hand. "I mean, next year will be a fresh start. New school, new me… I put a lot of thought into this and I've decided that I want to join a sorority. I mean, Alpha Delta Pi is well known for being one of the best houses a girl can join." She hazarded a look at her friend.

Sam shrugged and crossed her legs at the ankles, grumbled, "Good on you for deciding to join the sisterhood."

Carly nudged her playfully. "You're pledging with me, too, silly."

"Carly, there is no way I'm joining a sorority," she laughs incredulously. "And what makes you think they'd take me? I have a very short temper. And look at me!" She gestures to her plaid slacks and worn sneakers, fingers one of her layered shirts.

Carly shrugged and looked Sam up and down before scribbling something down in her notebook. "We can clean you up nicely and show you a thing or two about manners."

"I don't know if you realize this, but my next year plan involves lots of broken curfews and reckless partying. I want to turn tables, Carly. Not turn freaking… apple turnovers and stuff. Argh," she growled, tossed the spatula on the counter.

"Sam," Carly whines, lips pulled down in a pout. "At least do this for me? Please?"

"You know, I thought that as soon as we got to UCLA that we'd dorm together," Sam whispered heatedly. "Do you even remember that was a part of our ten-year plan that you drew up?"

Her best friend had the grace to blush. "We can at least give it a shot."

"Do you know what I want to give a shot to?" Sam says tersely as she pokes one of the pastries with her finger.

"All I'm saying is that you can't give up on sororities until you try it."

Sam gave Carly a flat look. "They're burnt. We burnt them."

Carly stuck her finger in the spot Sam had stabbed and brought it up to her mouth. She hummed around her finger. "Tastes edible."

"Of course they're edible; I made it!"

"Don't try to take all the credit for it," the brunette says, stealing another taste. "I need this A. My perfect grade point average depends on it."

"Does your GPA also depend on Miss Prom Committee writing everything down in her stupid glittery notebook?" Sam motions toward it and Carly laughs.

"No, but _some_one has to come up with the idea for this chiz." She poises her pencil over the notebook, but when she looks up, a dark look comes over her face. The pencil point snaps. "Aren't they just so precious together?"

Sam looked in the direction that Carly was glaring at and saw Gibby and Freddie at their workstation. She shrugged. "Freddie's alright, I guess," she answers teasingly.

"Leann Stratford teaching _my_ boyfriend how to bake. It's so… so… great."

Sam notes Carly's tense tone and laughs. "No way! Are you trying to tell me that you're jealous of the teacher's _assistant_?"

"He's my boyfriend!"

"She's also twenty years his senior. And there is no freaking way… No way…" Even as she said this, Leann reached over and lightly touched Freddie's hand, smiling close to his face as she guided him in the proper way to ice a turnover. If Sam had a pencil in her hand, she'd have broken it as well.

"Two more months. Two more glorious months," Griffin says, coming up behind them. And then, "What are you girls staring at?"

"Nothing," Sam says at the same time Carly groans, "Her hands…"

"I'm almost sure it's nothing to worry about, Carly."

She makes a pitiful noise. "All over his body…"

"She's the teacher's assistant, no freaking way…"

"Proof!" Carly sighs devastatingly and slams her head into her hands.

Griffin chuckles, puts a hand on both of their shoulders. "Are you talking about hot sauce Stratford?" Sam narrows her eyes at him and he backs off. "Yeah, she's not interested in guys, so your boyfriends are safe."

"I know that," Carly says, cheeks red. "I just don't like the way that he's looking at her, like he's undressing her with his eyes or something."

"Uh, we all do that," Griffin supplies unhelpfully. "Even Ms. Evans does it."

True to his word, their butch gym coach who doubles as the home economics teacher is staring hard at Leann, a predatory gleam in her eyes. Leann is tossing small glances her way, a flirty smile fixed on her face.

"Seriously, keep it for the bedroom," Sam grumbles.

"Oh, no," Griffin refutes. "That would make a lot of boys angry."

Sam and Carly glare at him.

"A _lot_ of boys," he emphasizes, and then is gone, moving back to his station.

"Okay, class," Coach Evans said suddenly, coming around her desk to perch on the edge. She clapped her hands together and eyed them menacingly. "It's time to introduce you to a new project; the baby project. I will assign teams of two an animatronic doll that you will have to carry everywhere with you for the next three weeks. It will scream and shriek and basically tick the ever-loving shit out of you, but I will expect for you to take care of it like you do your hair." She sneered at the few guys in the class. "And your dicks. This will be your final before your final. Anyone who gets less than a B+ fails my class. Now get out; I'll see you after school to pick up your dolls."

"What the hell does a final before a final mean?" Sam mutters as they pack their things. She grabs a paper plate and stacks it high with the apple turnovers.

"Hey, Gibby," Carly calls as soon as they make their way over to the guys. "Does the forty year-old look do it for you?"

Freddie snorted amusingly into the sleeve of his shirt, trying to mask it as a cough. Gibby's mouth flew open incredulously.

Carly tugged on the collar of his shirt, spoke closely to his face. "I should put you in the dog house."

"You know I love you, Carly Shay," Gibby said, a smile forming on his lips.

"I love you, too, Gibby Carlson."

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Sam said, walking out of the classroom.

Freddie was not far behind her. He smiled. "So… Partners on this baby thing?"

The skin on her face immediately flushed and she coughed. "What?"

Freddie stopped short and fingered the strap on his messenger bag. "Well, I just assumed, you know, being my girlfriend and all…"

She forced a laugh. "And that's the reason _why_ we shouldn't partner up! I mean—I don't know. You and I taking care of a baby? Don't you think that's kind of a… a rush?"

"It's a class project."

"So why can't you just tackle this with Gibby? You guys have been great partners so far this year."

"I'm sure Ms. Evans would like to see two fathers taking care of a kid, but it's not what I want."

She sighed when they reached her locker. "What about what _I _want?"

He stared her down for a full minute before glancing at her plate and snorting. "You burnt turnovers? How does that happen?"

Sam, slighted, throws a light punch at his arm. "They're totally safe to eat! Just ask Carly."

"Well, if Carly says so…" He steals a pastry and twists it around in his fingers. "Be my partner," he asks, lips doing that pouty thing that Sam can never resist giving into.

She tosses her turnovers in her locker before slamming it shut and hitches her bag higher on her shoulder. "Fine. But you pick the kid up after school. I have business to attend to."

"What? Eating?" Freddie laughs as she walks off.

She turns to him and shrugs. "You know it."

::: ::: ::: :::

The third time Sam passes him by, she huffs and snatches the baby out of his arms. "You can seriously make kids cry with that long face."

"Thank you," Freddie says gratefully and stands up, stretching. "That thing is way too fussy to be real."

"It's not fussy with me," she says, holding the doll upside down by its leg despite Freddie's panicked squall. She puts the doll down none too gently on the counter near Carly's project before going back to browsing SplashFace. "Maybe it knows you have crazy parenting skills in your genes."

"One; my mom is not crazy. And two; it's not an it. It's a he. Jackson, to be precise."

"Lame name, Fredward. But then it's pretty much to be expected when you have a name like yours." She gives him a sympathetic look when he pulls away from the fridge, packet of fruit juice in hand. "It's a cruel world."

He leans his elbows on the counter opposite of hers and smirks. "And you're a cruel girl."

"Maybe…"

"Besides, I didn't name the kid. It's inscribed on his foot. Coach Evans says that it's there to keep us students from stealing other people's babies."

"I can always find a way around that," Sam smirked.

"You know, you're really great at conning people, hands down. But, I just don't think that there's any way around a name etched into a foot. It's like a tattoo—completely identifiable." He raises a cocky brow and is about to take a sip of his juice before Sam steals it out of his hands.

"The bottom of my shoe is going to be completely identifiable on your face if you ever doubt me again," she says.

He scrunches his brows together. "If you wanted a juice, you could have just said so."

"I don't want the juice," Sam says and runs her tongue along her bottom lip before biting down.

"Oh," Freddie says, his brows relaxing as a confident look comes across his face. "Well, if you wanted me, you should have just said so." He reaches out and combs his fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck before bringing her lips to his.

They're just getting into a _very_ interesting kiss when one of the dolls emits a shriek, startling them both. They pull back quickly and watch in horrid fascination as the other doll rouses and begins screaming.

Suddenly, a battle cry comes from the other side of the apartment. Sam turns just as Spencer pounces in the main room with a hockey stick in the air, poised for attack. "Babies! In my home!" He glances at the dolls and his eyes widen in shock before he's placing accusing eyes on Freddie.

"Uh, it's a, uh, it's—it's a school project, Spencer, honest," Freddie stutters as he backs away from Sam, hands held high in surrender.

"Since when is having _kids_ a school project?" He's snarling, his face is beet red, and his hair is badly tousled on his forehead, and Sam laughs.

He just looks so funny when he's angry.

"Calm down, Spencer," she hiccups when his narrowed eyes turn to her. "They're just _dolls_!"

He gives them an appraising, but slightly horrified look, and nudges one with the end of his hockey stick. It screams louder. "Dolls don't make sounds like that."

"I agree," Freddie says hastily. "Those make noises that I hear only in my nightmares." He takes Jackson in his arms and both Spencer and Sam place their hands over their ears as the noise, if at all possible, raises an octave higher.

"Does it have an off switch?" Spencer yells.

"Maybe. I think it's in the back somewhere," Sam answers, nudging Carly's baby to him.

Spencer is turning the doll around in his hands, an intense look of concentration on his face, when they hear the smack of keys hitting the floor. Carly is standing at the door, back from her date with Gibby at Omar's Pizza, mouth open wide in a gape.

"Don't touch that switch," she yells, suddenly animated as she tosses a pizza box on the couch on her way to Spencer. She snatches the baby out of his arms and it immediately settles, giving a few hiccups. Carly glares at her older brother. "You could have seriously jeopardized my grade."

"Oh, I suppose that's fine as long as the doll jeopardizes my _perfect hearing_," Spencer throws back at her.

"Oh, poo! Your hearing hasn't been the same since you stuck those bulbs in your ears years ago as a crazy interpretation of a Christmas tree!"

"And that's where you're wrong," he says victoriously. "Socko's cousin, Earl, has been giving me salves to rub in my ears every night before I go to bed. They're _almost_ perfect."

"_Almost_ doesn't mean that they—"

"Uh, Shay number one… Shay number two…" Freddie has his doll held at arm's-length as he looks helplessly at the siblings. "I'm gonna let you finish, but, uh… We have another screaming baby that needs to be taken care of."

"That's your project, deal with it," Carly says shortly.

"What a great friend you are," Spencer says, going back to taunting her. "Just a super, awesome best friend. Really, I don't know how they manage to go even ten minutes without you."

"They were standing there while you were going to demolish my chance at becoming Valedictorian! Whatever," she says, spinning on her heels. "I'm going to go tuck Monica into bed for her nap."

Spencer grabs the doll out of Freddie's hands. "Well, I'm gonna go tuck… _this_—"

"Jackson," Sam supplies, snickering.

"—Jackson in for _his_ nap."

"Fine!"

"Fine."

"_Fine_," Carly says with extremely narrowed eyes before skipping up the steps.

Spencer's face relaxes when he looks down at the doll and when he places it on the couch, it immediately hushes. He lets out a breath before shrugging his shoulders. "Done, easy as pie."

"Good job, Spencer," Sam congratulates.

"Yeah, I wonder why I didn't think of it," Freddie says surprisingly.

Spencer looks at them with a small smile on his face. "That's probably because you never raised a kid before," he sighs before gazing at the ceiling. "That girl—she is growing up so quickly."

Sam and Freddie glance at each other before Freddie says to Spencer, "She was pretty upset. Maybe you should go talk to her."

Spencer runs a hand across his head as he nods. "You're right. She may have inherited her feistiness from mom, but she's still a kid. My kid sister." He starts walking up the steps, but then suddenly turns around and points a finger at them. "No babies from either or you. And no actions, of any kind, that could lead to having a baby."

Sam coughs into her fist, blushing. "Upstairs, Spencer. Now!"

"Right," he says, and then he's gone.

"Shut up," Sam says to Freddie's smirk, pushing him on the shoulder before holding onto his shirt to bring him closer. "So, crisis avoided. I'd like to get back to kissing."

"I don't know," he teases. "Spencer said no actions…"

She laughs against his lips. "Not taking no for an answer." And then she presses her lips to his, groaning into the kiss. Her fingers trace up to his neck as he kisses her over and over, slipping his tongue past her lips to playfully touch hers before pulling out. A slow burning flame is lit in her stomach, touching her between her legs, and Sam is about to pull him into a secluded space, perhaps a closet, when Jackson begins wailing.

She pulls back with a huff, crossing her arms. "It's evident, he hates us kissing."

Freddie laughs incredulously at her, shaking his head. "That's completely bogus, Sam. He's a doll." He goes to the couch, takes a seat and pulls the doll in his arms. At the put-off look on Sam's face, he gives her a rueful smile and raises the pizza box. "We can always have leftover pizza," he says to appease her.

Sam's exceptionally ticked off at the doll and begins plotting a murderous scheme on it as she sits near Freddie. She snatches the box from him and grumbles, "As long as it isn't cold."

::: ::: ::: :::

"Look at this," Freddie says, and runs his fingers lightly up and down the area below the doll's neck. Jackson emits something that should sound like a giggle, but what actually makes a noise like a wounded animal, making Sam's hair stand to attention on her arms.

She pulls a face at it.

It had been one and a half weeks since they had gotten this doll as a project, and nearly as much time since Sam had found a private moment with her boyfriend. He was always with that doll no matter where he went or what he did, even one time going so far as to take it to the theatre with them when they had went to see The Blowing. They had gotten escorted out not even halfway into the movie because of the devil child's screaming.

After that incident, she and Freddie had had a falling out of some sorts. They weren't quite broken up, but they weren't speaking to each other, and it was enough to set Sam on edge.

"Baby booties, y'all," Leann Stratford said, coming around the classroom and distributing the pair of cloths. "I made them from scratch so you can see how intricate the knitting really is."

"Look at what I can make the baby do," Freddie says excitedly to Leann when she stops by their station. He shows her the trick with Jackson and the wounded cattle noise, and Leann titters delightfully.

"You'll make a great father, Freddie," she says, and Sam can swear she sees the lady's lashes batting.

She grits her teeth. "Yes. You'll be a great father. Bask in the compliment," she spits upon seeing Freddie practically preening under the praise of the teacher's assistant.

He narrows his eyes at her before shrugging and going back to the baby, which he had just strapped in a baby carrier on his chest.

Leann turned her attention to Sam and winced. "Looking at your tiramisu makes me want to cry, Puckett. How about you start from scratch?"

Sam's short temper flared. "No, _you_ fucking start from scratch, lady."

The class gasped and Coach Evans lowered her reading glasses on her nose.

"I slaved over this hot stove for the past hour, and now you want me to start over?" She continued, heatedly. "With only five minutes left of the class? I don't think so. And to be honest, this class is complete bullshit, anyway. When will I ever need to know how to make freaking tiramisu? You tell me. I'm not going to be a housewife, so tell me, exactly when will all of these knitting and lemonade-making come in handy? I'll tell you when-- never!" She sat on her stool, winded, and resolutely looked away from the gaping mouths of the students, predominantly Freddie's disapproving look.

"Sam," he said tersely.

"Freddie," she returned.

Coach Evans stood up and gave each of them a stern look. "Sam… Freddie… Out of my classroom."

"I was on my way out anyway," Sam couldn't help but say as she snatched up her bag, barely zipping it closed around scattered papers before leaving the classroom.

Freddie tried protesting as he was shepherded out by the teacher, but then he whirled on Sam. "What the hell was that?" He said when they reached the hall.

"That, Fredward, was me expressing my anger over being told to make another tiramisu."

"It's a _cake_," he said slowly, angry. "For something so simple, you got me kicked out of class. Could you not just rein in your temper for one _freaking_ second?"

She crossed her arms. "Evidently, I could not. And you know what else? I want the doll."

Freddie stumbled over his feet, his mouth opening and closing as he instinctively brought an arm up to circle the doll. "What are you talking about?"

"I want to take Jackson home with me tonight, so hand him over."

He let out an amused chuckle. "You can't be serious." At her raised brow and tapping foot, he huffed and began unstrapping the carrier. "You want Jackson for the night? Fine, have fun. Just remember not to kill him."

"It's not particularly alive," Sam said as she took the doll from him. It immediately started wailing, and in the empty hall, it sounded louder than it usually did.

Freddie eyed the doll warily before shaking his head at Sam. "Just don't try calling me when you're lost on what to do."

"Don't worry, I _won't_ call. You have no reason to wait by your phone tonight," she said before leaving the hall, leaving the entire building. She hopped on a city bus and was home in a matter of minutes, rubbing the sore sole of her foot on her calf as she flicked through channels on the TV. Her mother shambled out of her room with her hair on her head and eyes squinted as she tugged her dressing gown tighter around her.

"Sam?" She called.

Sam snorted. "You have a serious case of bed head."

"Sam, what are you doing back home so early?"

"Got kicked out of class, again, so I decided to ditch the rest of school." She ignored her mother's disapproving look and quickly jammed her finger in the doll's mouth when she spotted it stirring. It did the trick; the doll's mouth instantly began moving gently around her finger as its hands opened and closed and wagged around in the replica of a real infant. She rolled her eyes back to the TV.

A slightly whimsical smile comes over Sarah's face and she shuffles further into the room. "Do you remember Mario?"

Sam furrows her brows. "The Laundromat owner from Kent?"

Sarah nods and sighs. "He's taking me out on a _third_ date tonight. I think he's a keeper."

Sam wants to tell her mom not to get her hopes up so high because she might come crashing back down like she had previously done with her many guy friends, but she bites her tongue. She keeps quiet not only because she wants her mom to have even a small slice of happiness, but also because she feared that she was doing something similar—that deep down inside, she was putting a lot of her trust in Freddie and it was going to bite her where it hurts.

So she goes back to the television, wastes her entire day sitting on the couch as her mother frets about, cleaning up and getting ready for her date with the guy Sam's never met before. The sun soon sets and before Sam can properly think about it, she's picking up her phone and sending out a text. Freddie arrives as she's pulling on a camisole, fresh out of the shower.

She opens the door and Freddie gives her an infuriatingly superior smirk. "I knew you were going to call me before long. So, what's the emergency?"

She eyes the baby carrier he brought along with him and the stringed pacifier around his neck and snorts derisively. "First, I want to know if you're still mad at me."

He smirk goes down a degree and he eyes her seriously for a few seconds before sighing, defeated. "I should be."

"Good," she says and takes the carrier out of his hands, tosses it to the floor. "Then you should know that there is no emergency."

Instead of getting the desired result, her disclosure seems to increase his panic. "Sam," he starts slowly, tugging restlessly at the pacifier around his neck. "Where is Jackson?"

"Relax." She licked her lips in what she hoped was a seductive fashion and wrapped her arms around his neck. "It's—_he's_ sleeping tightly on a comfy pillow in my mom's bed." She then stretched onto her toes and placed her lips against his.

He kissed back for a bit before stepping away. "I don't think it's a good idea to leave the baby in a room by himself."

Sam nearly snapped and threw up her arms in frustration. Nearly. She bit her lip and breathed deeply through her nose to calm herself down. "There's nothing in any parenting guidebook that says that an infant shouldn't be left alone, Freddie. Relax with me." She pressed her face to his chest and rocked with him for a while, trying to remain patient as she heard Freddie's thundering heart relax in small degrees. She smiled when she felt his warm hands begin to trace her bare arms. "Are you okay now?"

He doesn't answer her, just swipes his fingers under the thin straps of her cami. "Is this for me?" He asks as the straps snap against her shoulders.

Sam tugged on one of the buttons on his shirt, unfastening it, before going lower to another one. She says, "I just missed you… and me… and _us_…"

"Well, I'm here now," he says, and his eyes are smoldering with heat.

She squeezes his shoulder in her hand while the other continues unbuttoning his shirt as she breathes into his mouth, "Good. That's a good thing."

He slants his lips across hers in a hard, demanding kiss and wraps his arms around her body, keeping her close. She nips his bottom lip, sweeps her tongue into his mouth. Their kiss is hot and wet and Sam's flushed with a strong surge of desire by the time he's running his lips down her neck. His hands cradle her breasts as he sucks at a point on her neck that makes a pang of arousal hit her center, makes her bite her lip against a moan. They back together toward the couch, Sam crashing down on top of Freddie, who reclines against the arm rest. She settles herself on him, can feel his hardness brushing against her through his jeans and the thin cotton fabric of her shorts. Her pulse is racing and her breath is shortening and she sinks her teeth into his full lips as the heat builds up, spreading through the rest of her body, to her ears and fingers.

She wants to taste him, to have him completely bared underneath her for her tongue, and pushes his shirt off his shoulders. She brings her mouth to the point where his neck meets his shoulder, licks before biting down.

"Sam," Freddie grits out between teeth, bringing her partway back to reality. He thrusts upwards, pushing his clothed erection against the ache between her legs, and groans. "Maybe we should go somewhere a little more comfortable?"

Sam rests her face against the overheated skin of his neck, breathes the scent of him in deeply, and nods. She couldn't believe how hard and quickly her arousal had hit her, only knew that grinding down on him had her soaked panties sliding across her pussy lips, creating delicious, yet maddening, friction.

She climbed off of him with little grace, grabbing his hand to help him up out of his position. Once he's standing, Sam's arms are encircling him, her palms opening flat on his back as she curls her tongue around his. He's breathing hard into her mouth as she navigates them blindly into her room. She stumbles over a sneaker and pulls back from his lips with a, "Fuck. Don't mind the mess, okay?"

He smirks at her, says jokingly, "I never do."

She thinks that's a dig at her daily look, her clothes usually disheveled and hair unkempt, so she pinches his nipples between her fingers.

"You wench!" He bats her hands away from his chest and grabs her ass before salaciously whispering against her temple, "I'm going to make you pay for that."

Sam laughs. "You don't want to play that game."

"Don't I?" His fingers play along her ribs as he rolls the fabric of her top in his hands. He clutches it and raises it over her head, tossing it behind him as he walks her backwards to the bed. "You're just afraid I'll win."

"Fat chance, Freddie," she says around a smile. She sinks onto her bed and tugs Freddie by his belt loops closer to her, in between her spread legs. She traces her fingers down his thighs, to where the bulge in his jeans is prominent, and slowly tugs his zipper down.

Freddie bites his lip and brings a hand behind her head, tangling his fingers in her hair. His other hand deftly opens his belt and the single button underneath it. Sam pulls his jeans partway down his thighs and her mouth immediately waters. He has on tight black briefs and his erection is straining against the fabric, and Sam grinds against the edge of the bed, delirious with desire. She runs a palm over his sheathed cock, squeezing briefly before hooking her fingers in the elastic of his briefs.

When he pulls away from her hands, she lets out an aggravated sigh and presses her fingers against herself to try and quell her thrumming arousal.

"You were saying?" He says smartly when he notices the pained look on her face. Sam watches through narrowed eyes as he toes his shoes off and pushes his jeans down his legs. The muscles of his thighs flex desirably under the snug binds of his briefs and Sam's fingers itch to touch him. But she doesn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

Instead, she looks up into his challenging gaze and bites her lip the way she knows he likes. His breath hitches in his chest and he palms his bulge and Sam says teasingly, "Unless you want to spend the rest of your night with _Palmela_, I suggest you shut up and get over here." She waits for him to kick his pants away and then scoots back on the bed as he crawls after her. "That's a good boy," she says before licking across his delicious bottom lip.

He chuckles and unclasps her bra. "Okay, Mama Puckett; you've got me this time."

"I've got you _all_ the time," she rebukes, and then lets out a shaky moan when his mouth clasps onto her breast. He alternates between licking and biting her nipples and Sam's thighs rub restlessly together. She's sure her underwear is completely soaked, can feel fat drops leaking out of her pussy, making her skin prickle with shudders. Freddie's strong hands push her legs open and his middle finger dip past her shorts.

He groans and runs his tongue up from her tightly heaving chest to her neck. "Sam, you're so wet."

"Ridiculously wet," Sam agrees, burying her nose into the side of his face and taking his earlobe between her teeth. "Dripping down my legs for you."

"God." He yanks her shorts down her legs, off of her ankles, and climbs over her body, pressing her back into the bed. It's heating up in her room, despite the opened window, and her nails leave scratches across his shoulders. He's got two fingers in her, is undulating them hard against her inner walls, but it's not enough. She doesn't need his fingers right now, she needs _him_. There's too much space left open in her that wants to be stuffed full with his delectably thick cock, and she whimpers before telling him so.

Freddie laughs, traces his fingers over her clit before pushing them back inside. He asks jokingly, "What's my name?"

"Oh, God, you can't be serious," she moans, but says his name anyway. "Freddie fucking Benson, you stupid, forgetful boy. And you win, okay? You're the master at this game. Just fucking _fuck_ me with your cock already!"

Freddie laughs louder and leans on his elbow next to her. He kisses her deeply and hitches her leg over his torso. "So, since I'm the winner, _you_ have to do all the work."

Sam glares at him, hopes it's icy enough to give him chills. He peels her panties halfway down her thighs and the sudden cool air ghosting across her pussy makes her shiver. He smiles cockily and lands a slap on her bare ass.

"What are you waiting for? Get to it!"

"Oh, you owe me." Even through her glare, Sam couldn't keep the grin from forming on her face. They divested themselves of their last articles of clothing and Sam waited, impatiently, as Freddie drew a condom over his standing cock. They didn't say a thing as she straddled his thighs; Freddie held the base of his erection in his hand when Sam placed her palms on his chest, giving herself leverage as she slowly lowered herself on him.

She savored the feel of him sliding up into her, hung her head to his chest, hair curtained around her face as he stretched her open, filled that aching part of her. Once fully seated, she blinked slowly and brought her lips to his. He muttered her name into the kiss as he held her waist in his hands, lifting before pulling her back onto him.

If anyone were to ask later, Sam would deny that she practically _purred_ as she moved on him. She would say that she made a sexy noise or something and that, no, being connected to him had nothing to do with the fact that her heart seemed to expand three times its size. It had to have been a bad burger she ate earlier, maybe even those unknowingly poisonous pastries weighing heavily in her chest.

But the only thing poisonous to her at that moment, the only thing rushing through her veins and making sweat bead on her head, was pure, animalistic lust.

She ran the heels of hands down to his middle and sat back, grinding her hips against his in figure eights. His cock went deeper in her in this position, and Sam watched Freddie's eyes roll as erotic pleas tumbled from his delicious lips. The spot deep inside her was reveling in the pressure of his tip brushing against it, and she pushes herself closer, moving her hips in tighter circles to keep him deep inside her.

"Fuck, Freddie," she says, and her fingers slide through the sheen of sweat on his skin.

He moans and raises his hips up to meet her, thrust for thrust, and it's so good that it makes Sam's breath catch in the back of her throat. "Oh, Sam, you feel so good around me," he grunts, and Sam can see the way his eyes trace her bouncing breasts and down her flat stomach, staring hungrily at the place where they met. "So good…"

Her thighs are beginning to burn and her breath is shortening, and when she stops briefly to collect herself, her pussy squeezes wildly around him. His fingers flex on her legs when she starts up again.

She can feel herself getting tighter around him, pulsating a little more urgently around his hard dick, and she knows that she's getting close to her ending. She whimpers, reaches for it…

All too suddenly, a shriek pierces through their moment, and Freddie grunts through clenched teeth.

"Don't you even dare," Sam threatens, riding him a little harder. She was so close, so fucking close…

He puts his hands on her waist, halting her as yet another scream interrupts them. His jaw is tense, but his eyes are apologetic. "I'm sorry, but he's our final."

Sam slaps a hand on his chest hard enough to leave a mark. "No, he's our final _before_ our final!"

Freddie blinks, giving her a perplexed look. "Same thing?"

"You know that it's very well not, Freddie Benson. Now, come on, let's finish." She moves against him, but the doll wails even louder and even Sam has to admit that it's a bit distracting. She climbs off of him with a huff, her core throbbing, yearning for the feel of him again.

Freddie rubs a rough hand down his face before sitting up and pulling on his underwear. He looks back at Sam's glowering face and repeats himself. "I'm sorry."

Sam throws herself back on her pillows and mutters, "Whatever." She's throwing a fit, she knows, realizes that it's not entirely his fault that they had to stop. She only wishes that she could dip that baby in acid and finally be free from it, and not have Freddie hate her for the rest of his life.

"God, your room is so junky," she hears Freddie mutter as he trips over something, and then he's gone. She waits until the screams have disappeared before rising from the bed and pulling on her shirt and damp panties.

She pouts upon seeing Freddie standing in the middle of her mom's room, fake baby cradled close to his chest. Freddie smiles at her, puts a finger to his lips to signify her keeping quiet.

"Tell me—is it too late to find foster parents for Jackson?"

Freddie gives her a soft kiss, first on her lips and then on her temple. "Let me put him back to sleep and then I'll make it up to you by licking you inside out for as long as you want, okay?"

She considers his words, considers the rush of wetness pooling between her legs, and then she looks down at Jackson. It's sucking on the pacifier and blinking slowly, looking completely content at having ruined their moment.

She crosses her arms and glares.

::: ::: ::: :::

"Maybe we should try to be more like them?"

Sam looks up from Jackson cradled on her ankles and into the direction Freddie's peering at. She sees Carly and Gibby seated close to another on a bench, making out while rocking their fake baby in each other's arms. She pulls a face. "Which part? The nice display of affection where they hold hands and coo at each other and bump into trees because they can't tear their eyes away, or the disgusting PDA that is never complete without tongues shoved down throats, tongues shoved in ears, jizzing-in-pants type deal?" Gibby looked dangerously close to blowing his load.

Freddie shot her a disgusted, perplexed look. He shifted Jackson on her legs, getting him higher away from the grass that they sat on. "The good kind."

"I don't know…"

"Yeah, me either," Freddie said. He sent one more, confused look Carly's way before cradling Jackson's head in his hand.

"Could you not," Sam said tersely, snatching the doll away from him. "He's not going to _die_ from touching the grass."

Freddie glared at her. "I just wanted to keep his head elevated. It was in a painful position."

"This thing's head is not going to snap off," she returned, and then rolled her eyes at his hard look. "Are you in love with the doll or something?"

"Could you try caring about your grades just a bit more?"

"What the hell for? I've already been accepted into college."

"And you'll flunk out if you get back into this habit of not caring."

She pats his cheek, says sarcastically, "Wow, honey, you give such great advice. You should be a guidance counselor."

"For what? It's not like you listen to those either," he grumbles, and then pulls away from her touch. "I'm just saying, as your _caring_ boyfriend, who _cares a lot_ about you and your _future,_ that you should start showing a little more determination. Especially for this project. I mean, who knows—we can have one of our own someday."

Sam's skin flushes and she backs away from him. "I knew this stupid class project would have you going baby crazy, and now here you are, talking about babies and the next thing will be marriage, and I'm only eighteen years old. I don't care how young your mother was when she got married. I don't want that for me!"

Freddie looks flustered and he grabs the baby out of her flailing arms. "Whoa, Sam, how about you lower your voice a notch?"

"No," she shouts. "You know what? How about we take this _relationship_ down a notch? Yeah—that means no more baby talk and future talks about being together and… and…"

"Sam!" He places his hand over hers, but she snatches it back. His brows furrow. "I don't… I don't _want_ to take this relationship down a notch."

"You're getting way too serious for me, Freddie," Sam says, leaving him speechless before Carly bounds over.

She sits cross-legged opposite them, looks unsuspectingly at their heated, angry gaze with a grin fixed on her face. "I finally came up with an idea for the prom theme, guys. So, get this—we'll have the girls dress up as if they're pregnant and the guys holding babies instead of boutonnières and we'll call the prom… dun, dun, dun, Born to be Child. Get it? Like Born to be Wild, but Child, instead. So?" She finishes laughing and looks at them expectantly, gouging their reactions.

"Carly," Sam says and gives her friend a pitying look. "That is the absolute _worst_ idea I've ever heard, and I've heard some pretty bad chiz."

Carly huffed, tucking her hair behind her ears. "You just don't get it." She turned to Freddie. "What do you think? I mean, we can have blinking binkies tapered on the walls and it'll be like a rave with carriages and there will be big baby, cupid thingies walking around and it—it would be just so awesome, right?"

Freddie's jaw ticks. He sends Sam one last hard look before rising up from the grass. "I'm gonna head off to class."

"But, class doesn't start for another twenty minutes," Carly shouted to his back as he walked away. She then gave Sam a flat look. "What did you do to him?"

"Why does it have to be me? Maybe it was your horrible prom idea that got him in a stink mood."

"It's not horrible. It's unique," Carly said, and stared so penetratingly at Sam that she had to give in.

"He's cares more about that project more than he cares about me."

"What?" Carly shook her head. "Sam, that isn't true. It—"

"I know what you're going to say, Carly," she interrupted. "_'It can't be true.'_ Well, it is. I mean, he interrupted sex to rock that thing to sleep, and—"

"Whoa," Carly's eyes widened as she looked away. "I thought we promised we'd never tell each other about the naughty no-no's."

"And he got us kicked out of the movie theatre, and he walks around with that thing twenty-four-seven as if it's _alive_, or something!"

Carly sighs and wraps her arms around her leg. "It _is_ a pretty important project."

"It is not worth forgetting about _us_," Sam says softly. She can feel her face heating up and she turns away from her friend, blinking back moisture.

Carly gives her a moment to compose herself and then says, "Sometimes, in relationships, a partner—uh, a partner can have some of their attention taken away and given to something a little important to them. The good thing is that it doesn't last. This is just a tiny bump, Sam. As soon as he hands that baby over to Coach Evans, he's going to be back to doting on you, and you'll act like you hate it and you'll be sick of it, but deep down inside, you'll love it because… you love him. And you love what he does for you and you crave his attention and—"

"Pause," Sam calls out, giving Carly an incredulous look. "I _love_ him? I didn't know that."

Carly purses her lips. "Listen, I am you guys' best friend, standing on the outside looking in, and I can see it as clear as day; you love him and he loves you." Then she rolls her eyes. "God, I don't know how you two manage to go even ten minutes without me," she repeats what Spencer had once said and laughs when Sam does.

Sam sniffles, a smile lingering on her lips. "I guess this is the time where I should thank you."

"Really?" Carly says, delighted. "What a rare occurrence!"

"And that's why I'm _not_ going to be thanking you," Sam laughs, takes Carly's helping hand to raise herself up from the grass. "By the way, if that's your final prom idea, I'm not going; I've had enough baby drama to last me a few years. But I'd be all too happy to show you how to dress like a fat person!"

"Pregnant," Carly corrected, and then looked down at her stomach. "But you might be right; looking like we have unborn fetuses in our wombs may turn a few guys off."

"A few?" Sam shook her head. "It'll have the entire room upchucking."

::: ::: ::: :::

Sam gets to class late, and Freddie doesn't even spare her a look as she clambers noisily beside him. She narrows her eyes before leaning toward him. "I'm sorry," she says shortly.

He gives a harsh sigh. "I'm sorry, too."

"Really?" she asks, taken aback. _That was easy_…

"No," he answers, sending her a stony look. "How can I be sorry for something I haven't done? Sam, you're way too negligent with everything you do, so careless, and I'm just unsure about what you'll become in the future because you're proving over and over again that you don't care about sh—" Freddie muffles the rest of the word against her lips when she pulls him into a kiss.

Griffin tosses a paper ball at their head, hisses, "Psst, get a room!"

Sam pulls back from him after a few seconds. "I'm honestly so sorry for being such a terror these past few weeks, and I'll do anything to make up for it."

He licks his lips, looking at her dazedly before shaking his head. "Uh, how about you take Jackson for the final week?"

Sam's jaw falls. "No way!"

"Why must you always say that?"

"Because there is absolutely no freaking way! I don't want that robot monster anywhere near me for more than a few minutes at a time!"

"Is there a problem?" Coach Evans asks, coming up on them.

Freddie gives Sam a dry look before shaking his head. "No, we were just discussing how Sam's going to be taking care of this baby for the next week."

"That sounds like a good idea," Coach Evans says before plucking the doll out of Freddie's arms and pushing it on Sam. "I'll make sure to monitor next week's progress _real closely_."

Sam gapes at him when the coach walks off. "Thanks a lot, Freddie."

"Don't mention it," he said shortly, and then sighed, placing his head in his hands. "I didn't mean for her to do that, okay?"

She grit her teeth against a rising headache, said, "Yeah, well it got your desired effect; me miserable."

"I'm sorry, alright?"

"No. Not alright," she said, and then scooped up her bag and the doll. She walked to the other side of the classroom and slammed her things on her previous workstation. "Gibby," she called.

"Yo," he answered, nodding his head.

"Go back to your partner."

Gibby looked over to Freddie and smirked at her. "Trouble in paradise? Nah, but Freddie's a cool dude. What'd you do to him?"

"Just go, please!" She takes a seat in his vacated chair as soon as he's halfway across the classroom, and groans into her hands.

Carly rubs her hand along her back. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

Sam shook her head, said, "Yeah. I think Freddie and I are ending."

"You _think_?" Carly arched a brow and patted her back one last time before sitting up straight in her chair, tossing her hair over her shoulders. "Sam, if I were you, I wouldn't let him go that easily."

Sam gave Carly a mock glare. "Are you trying to tell me that you have a _thing_ for my soon-to-be ex boyfriend, Shay?"

"No, but I am saying that you guys are good for each other and great together, and, you know, you _love_—"

"Okay, okay," she interrupted, and then thumped her head on the desk. Her best friend was completely right; Freddie did things for her that made her feel whole, more alive, and a better person. He was the first person she'd ever felt this way for, and despite her weariness about their future together, she really did want to keep feeling for him this way.

They _were_ great together, great for each other, and she did kind of… She did.

With an idea in mind, Sam perked up. She nudged her doll toward Carly's project. "Sleepover with Monica tonight?"

Carly, being an ever understanding person, only smiled. "Okay, but you owe me."

::: ::: ::: :::

Her hands ached from the stinging metal by the time she reached his floor. It was late and she could hardly see through the window, only her blue eyes blinking back at her. She didn't bother rapping her knuckles against the hard glass, just worked on tucking her fingers underneath the small gap in order to lift it.

Once inside, her eyes immediately went to him. He was lying in his bed, limbs thrown about, breathing heavily. His eyes were moving rapidly behind his lids as he dreamed, and Sam spared a small smile before sitting on his bed, tucking her leg underneath her. She gathered her hair in one hand before leaning over and placing a chaste kiss on his cheek.

He spluttered when he woke. "Huh—wha…?" He lifted his head and blinked groggily at her. "Sam?"

"Yeah, Freddie. I just," she took a deep breath. "I came over here to apolo—"

"Where is Jackson," he interrupted, sitting up and looking around her. "Where is he?"

Apprehension bloomed in Sam's stomach, making her blush, and she twisted her fingers in her lap. "He's with Carly."

He leaned against his headboard with a groan, slapping a hand on his head. "I should have known better."

"Don't be mad at me. At least I took him off your hands for a while."

"It's not about that, Sam." He gave her a hard look before sighing heavily. "It's about being a great mother to our project—to _our_ kid."

"I am _so_ not ready to learn about parenting, Freddie," she tried to reason. When he answered with an exasperated shake of his head, she continued, "It frightens me. _You_ frighten me. This intense thing we have between us—_it_ frightens me."

"So, then how long is it going to be until we break up?"

A lump formed quickly in her throat and she fought to swallow it. "I don't want to break up," she whispered, and then stood up, her arms falling to her side. "I don't want us to break up, so how could you even ask that?"

His eyes went soft and he rubbed a hand across his jaw. "Then think about the future for once in your life, Sam. This isn't just about you; it involves me, too. Sam," he said in a low voice, wrapping his fingers loosely around her wrist. He peered at her, into her, and she shuddered. "Sam, what is your future?"

"My future?" She laughed wetly, rolled her eyes. "My future is college, college parties, beach parties, raves, graduation, and then…" She trailed off and shrugged.

"And then real life," Freddie filled in for her. "A career, a house… Maybe with the both of us in it."

Sam twisted her wrist, captured his hand in hers. "Okay. And I get it. But can we _please_," she squeezed her eyes shut. "Can we please stay teenagers for a while?" She knows that he sees her fear, her trepidation of an uncertain future with him, when he tugs her to sit beside him.

He wraps her in his arms and says into her hair, "I'm going to go get Jackson from Carly, okay? Stay here." Sam eyes trace his movements as he gets out of the bed and puts his clothes on. Before leaving, he leans toward her and captures her lip in a short kiss. "I don't want us to fight anymore, okay?"

Sam nodded, laid her head on his pillow until he got back, doll in his arms. He placed Jackson in between them on the bed, and the doll blinked at each of them, shaking its tiny fists. A small smile came on Freddie's lips as he ran a finger down the soft belly of Jackson.

"You really love that thing, don't you?" Sam put her head in her hand and sighed.

"He captured my heart with his first scream," Freddie said. "No, I just, I love the idea of Jackson."

Something in her melted as she watched Freddie play with the Doll from Hell, and she commented, "You might be a cool father, Freddie."

He stared at her a little bit. "Maybe ten, fifteen years down the road, I will. Can I hope to see you there?"

Sam laughed and turned away from him, now facing the window. She buried her face in his pillow that smelled fantastically like him and made her heart beat wildly in her chest. She let out a long breath before nervously saying, "Carly told me that I could maybe, quite possibly, love you."

When his hand touched her arm, she started. She turned her face when he nudged her and opened her lips under his when prodded. He kissed her as if he was pouring everything into it, and she gave it back just as passionately. "I love you, too, Sam," he breathed into her ear when he pulled away from her lips, and it made her heart skip a beat. "I love you, too."

::: ::: ::: :::

"Now, these are where babies are meant to be," Sam sighed as she took another bite.

"On cookies?" Carly panicked and looked to Freddie. "I think we have a baby murdering best friend on our hands."

"Relax; she'd never go that far," Freddie said, shaking his head as she took another large bite complete with a loud moan.

She picked up another cookie and glared at the cherubic face etched onto it. "Suck it, baby," she said snarkily before stuffing it into her mouth.

"Do you want the bad news or the good news?" Coach Evans suddenly asked to the class at large. She didn't wait to hear their collective answer before continuing, "The bad news is that none of you failed this project—anyone who applauds gets to stay afterschool with me for two hours."

Sam hastily grabbed Carly's hands to keep her from clapping. She sent a terrified look her way.

"The good news," Coach Evans said. "The good news is that you have another final, which would not only be your second chance to fail my class, but also to fail at life." She sent a pointed glare to her rowdiest of students and stopped on Sam. "Study what you _think_ will be on the test, that is if you choose to study at all."

"I'm going to bomb this test," Carly whispered as soon as the students went back to talking, texting, or whatever else they did while their Coach gave up on teaching to leer at Leann Stratford. "I'm going to bomb every class final of this year so bad…"

"Carly, calm down. You're the smartest person in this class." She flicked a small piece of paper at Carly's nose when she showed no signs of relaxing. "Look, if you fail the final, I'll eat twice my weight in ham."

"You see, that would be a great argument if you didn't already eat three times as much as that on a daily basis," Freddie put in.

"Thank you so much for your snappy retort, Freddie. It was much needed."

"Nyeeeh," he made a noise, sticking his tongue at her.

"Nyeeeh," she returned. She couldn't help the giggle that escaped her when he reached over and tugged playfully at a few strands of her hair. She was feeling so joyous, she didn't even mind when Leann stopped by their table, tray of cookies in hand.

"More baby cookies?"

"So, how about an underwater theme?" Carly asked them later when they were seated around her kitchen island, looking up from the textbooks strewn about.

"As long as I don't have to wear a grass skirt," Sam said, and she flipped a pencil over her knuckles. "Those things itch so badly, I have to keep scratching my a—"

"I was thinking more of sequined dresses." Carly gave her a stern look. "You know, to symbolize mermaids."

"Are they going to be tight?" Freddie perked up.

"Are you going to be tied to the back of the limo the entire night?" Carly asked sarcastically. "I think so."

Freddie pouted while Sam laughed. "Aw, come on, Carly," she teased, running her finger through Carly's dark hair. "We just want to know if we'll get to see a little something from you."

"Do I really have to dignify that with an answer?"

Sam stretched and pushed her textbook away. "Whatever, all this studying is making my brain hurt. I'm gonna go watch some old submitted clips to iCarly or something."

"Yeah, and I think I might have left a lens mount in the studio. I'll be back."

Carly gave Sam and Freddie a suspicious look and then said, "Alright, but hurry. If you're not down here by the time Spencer is back from Amazing Glaze, then we're gonna have all of them to ourselves."

"And someone will be murdered," Sam said, and then she saw the look in Freddie's eyes and walked up the steps a little faster. Once on the second landing, he kissed her on her neck, up to her ear and around to her mouth, encircling her in his arms. Sam pushed him away when she felt his hands creep up the back of her shirt. "What are you up to?" She laughed. "Carly's right downstairs."

"Yeah, with her nose glued to, like, ten textbooks." He pulled her into another kiss, his hands traveling up her back.

Sam pulled away after a while and lifted her reddened lips into a smirk. "I'm surprised you're not down there cramming with her, Freddork."

"I've got my favorite subject to study right here," he answered, roaming his hands along her skin and making her shudder in anticipation.

"So, what you mean to tell me is that you're thinking of getting frisky right here, in this very hall?"

He gave her a devious look before lifting her off her feet. Sam let out an embarrassingly girly squeal and wrapped her legs around his waist for balance. Her hands gripped his shoulders and she laughed. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Maybe. I don't know," he said, and then buried his nose between her jaw and shoulder. He gave her neck a short lick before biting down. "Are you complaining?"

"Not if this is the result of you being insane," Sam gasped. She arched into the warmth of his touch around her hips and felt his hardness brush against her, causing him to pause and let out a grunt.

His hands gripped her harder and he said, "God, Sam, I missed this so much," before peeling her shirt over her head and lowering his mouth to the swell of her breasts that were spilling out of the cups of her bra. His teeth left blooming red marks on her skin and had her writhing, panting quick draws of air into his hair. He kissed up the other side of her neck and whispered, "Quickie in the hallway?"

Sam bit her lip against the apprehension seizing her nerves and nodded.

He covered her lips with his in a deep kiss and said, "Good, but you have to remain quiet."

"I can do that," Sam agreed, short of breath.

They didn't bother with taking much else off. Freddie lowered her to the floor, stepped back and watched as she pushed her leggings down and off, flicking them barely into the open doorway of Carly's dark and vacant room. She heard with an eager, racing heart and aching core as he pulled down his zipper. His cock stood to attention as he backed her into the wall, his tongue dipping inside of her mouth in a searing kiss. Her hands rose to his hair as she accepted his tongue, and she practically mewled when she felt him brush against her stomach.

She gasped when he tore his lips from hers and spun her around to face the wall. Her fingers tangled with his around her waist, and he used his other hand to raise her short jean skirt up her hips. He gave her no warning other than a brief squeeze around her fingers before he was nudging against her wet opening, pushing into her.

Sam moaned and bit down on her lip, spreading her legs open and working herself back on his dick, the thought of how good he felt inside of her sending her head spinning. He began slowly; he pulled so far out that the tip of his cock brushed against her opening, making heat pool between her legs, and then he slammed into her so deep that she felt like she could choke on it. Her breasts swayed with the force of his thrusts, and Sam had to put her hands on the wall to brace herself as she gave it back to him. Her pussy was clenching spastically around his girth, delighting in the way that he slid in and out of her forcefully, and the steady, delicious friction had her already headed to a speedy release.

She couldn't keep the loud sound of pleasure from escaping her lips and Freddie's hand slapped on the wall beside hers, his thumb hooking around her smallest finger.

"I thought I told you that you had to be quiet, Sam," he panted into the side of her face, accentuated his words by thrusting particularly deep once, twice. "Do you want for us to stop?"

"Do you?" Sam challenged as soon as she got a grip on her racing, heated nerves. She raised and lowered herself on him, milking his cock with her squeezing pussy on the upstroke. She knew that her actions were driving him crazy, could tell by the way he gasped her name and wrapped his arms around her in a desperate attempt to slow things back down to the way they were.

"You have to slow down; I'm _this_ close to finishing and I don't even have on a condom, Sam."

"So?" She quirked a brow. "It's not like you're going to actually come in me." Though, it was an appealing thought to her, one that had her fingernails scratching the wall, pushing back onto him to have him deeper to the point where she could taste him.

He groaned deeply on one of his thrusts and held still, his grip flexing around her waist. "I wouldn't be too sure of that," he said, moved in her one last time before pulling out. He fingered her tender, wet folds, said, "God, Sam, you feel so amazing."

She turned around, tangling her fingers with his around his slick cock. Her leg rubbed against the back of his jeans as she lifted it around his waist. She pumped him slow and steady, rubbing her thumb against the head of his dick, and he moaned heavenly into her mouth as he released into her hand, spilling over her wrist and onto her stomach.

"You're so sexy when you come," she said teasingly, rubbing her knuckles onto the skin of his stomach, getting rid of his mess.

He didn't seem to mind her actions, just nipped her earlobe. "I love you," he said softly and ran his hands across the side of her breasts, into her hair as he kissed her soundly.

They pulled away shortly after they heard Spencer call out, "Who wants some Amazing Glaze donuts?"

"I don't know about you, but mama needs some sweet fried dough," Sam laughed and left his arms. Freddie came downstairs a few minutes later just as Sam was stuffing her second donut into her mouth. He sent a knowing look her way before reaching into the brightly colored box.

"Is there any way to study and _not_ get chocolate icing on everything?" Carly mumbled around her finger, picking icing from underneath her nails.

"Yeah, it's called a utensil," Freddie supplied, taking his seat at the counter.

"No," Sam said and kicked the bottom of his chair. "It's called putting every boring thing away and enjoying yourself while you eat the deliciousness that is this donut."

"Much like you enjoyed yourself in the studio?" Spencer came up from behind Freddie's shoulders and gave Sam a pointed look. "Found that lens mount you were looking for?"

Freddie choked and blushed, and Carly's mouth flew open, revealing the mashed chocolate pastry. "Spencer," she cried. "That is not an image I want in my head!"

Spencer's eyes stayed narrowed and focused on Sam as he walked around the counter and to the fridge. He turned away briefly to grab a can of whipped cream, and landed his accusing eyes on her again. "So, uh, exactly how much fun _did_ you have?"

Sam only smirked, shrugged. "Enough. By the way, I'm gonna need some of that whipped cream stuff for when Freddie and I go up to the studio to watch more clips."

Carly made a show of gagging and Spencer squawked, his eyes widening, and Sam found their reactions humorous, so she laughed.

"What? It's fun to eat while watching TV!"

Freddie gulped and tugged on the neck of his shirt when Spencer looked to him. "I'm gonna be leaving now," he squeaked, backing to the door.

"Oh, come on, guys. It's completely natural," Sam said, not helping their situation a bit. She ignored the frightful look on Freddie's face and continued. "When a mommy and a daddy love each other very much—"

"_Mommy and daddy_?" Spencer's brow twitched.

"On second thought, you're not leaving without me." Sam scooped up the box of donuts, pausing briefly to hand Carly another chocolate donut with an apologetic smile on her face, and made her way to the door. "Let's go, dork."

Spencer slapped his palms over Carly's ears and yelled to their retreating backs, "If you get Sam preggos, then your mom is going to kill you. And so will I!"

"Got it," Freddie replied, his voice cracking. Once the door was shut, leaving them alone in the hall of the plaza, he gave her a panicked look. "Sam! Look at what you did!"

"Relax, they have nothing to worry about." She patted his cheek and twisted her lips to the side before smiling. "You're going to be a _great_ dad."


End file.
